


No More Climbing For You, Spiderman

by aqqrieved



Category: Smosh, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Fluff, G/T, Giant/Tiny, M/M, and very gay, noah is very smol, protective smosh crew, tiny noah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqqrieved/pseuds/aqqrieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t Noah’s fault he was so small. It also wasn’t his fault that he was gayer than a pride flag wrapped around a naked dude that was making out with another naked dude. Well, maybe not that gay. It wasn’t his fault that those two things made his love life practically non-existent, either. He just happened to be 5 inches tall, and so awkward that it couldn’t even be considered cute. It was just...weird.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Ian and Anthony find a tiny kid under a box and the kid gets a huge crush on Keith, and Keith may or may not like him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What do you mean you just 'walked off'?!

**Author's Note:**

> there's literally only one other keith/noah fic and it's about fried chicken and i'm salty about it so here.

It wasn’t Noah’s fault he was so small. It also wasn’t his fault that he was gayer than a pride flag wrapped around a naked dude that was making out with another naked dude. Well, maybe not _that_ gay. It wasn’t his fault that those two things made his love life practically non-existent, either. He just happened to be 5 inches tall, and so awkward that it couldn’t even be considered cute. It was just...weird.

He was lucky enough to have found himself a home. And by ‘found himself a home,’ he meant that he’d managed to get away from the creepy scientist who’d turned him into a fucking Ken doll when he was just a kid, and instead into the clutches of a group of somewhat-celebrities from YouTube. He hadn’t really done anything at first. He wasn’t even sure why he was there; he just went with ‘both of my parents died in a car crash while out looking for me, and all of my other family wants nothing to do with me now that I’m 5 inches tall, and I’d rather be here than in some cage in some psycho’s office.’ That seemed to be a pretty good reason.

Noah often wondered when the _hell_ his life went down the drain.

He’d spent the first few weeks terrified out of his mind. Ian and Anthony, the main guys of ‘Smosh,’ the oh-so-famous YouTube channel, had scared him shitless when they’d first found him. He was hiding under a cardboard box in the rain, and they’d found him on the way to their car after a shoot. Noah hadn’t meant to draw attention to himself; he was cold, and he sneezed. He was a loud sneezer.

Trembling with fear, he’d let himself be taken up into Anthony’s hands and brought to the studio. He remembered sitting on a cold table with a bunch of people gathered around him, asking each other questions, and staring at him. He remembered crying.

Then, his favorite part of the encounter came along. Keith, one of the newer members of Smosh, had noticed how badly Noah had been taking the situation, and yelled at everyone to shut up and “stop staring at the poor guy!” Noah remembered the warm smile Keith had given him. He remembered the crying coming to a stop.

“What’s your name, dude? I’m Keith,” he’d asked. Noah didn’t reply. Keith’s smile never faltered. “We need your name, man. Not like we’re asking for your life story, or the password to your bank account.”

That had Noah smiling a little bit. “N-Noah,” he’d introduced meekly. His throat hurt, and his voice cracked with disuse. Keith grinned, introduced everyone else, and asked him if he was hungry. Noah startled. No one had ever asked him that. Damn straight, he was hungry. He’d nodded shyly, blushing as his stomach growled in agreement.

When Keith came back with a sandwich, half of it dangling from his mouth, and offered him a piece of the other, he knew he’d found himself a home. Not just a roof to live under, or people to feed him, but an actual home; a place he felt safe, a place he wanted to be, a place that he would always have. A place where people cared about him, or eventually would.

A _real_ home.

But, he still didn’t interact much. He rarely talked, but when he did, it was most likely to Keith, Ian, or Anthony. And, he’d realized how much of a flaming homosexual was when one of the Smosh ladies, Mari, had called him adorable versus when one of the Smosh guys, Shayne, called him adorable. When Mari had made the remark, he’d felt uncomfortable; when Shayne made the remark, his blush didn’t fade for _hours._ And, it didn’t help that literally every time Keith interacted with him, he was either blushing, hiding, or stuttering. It was _really_ awkward. Olivia, another Smosh girl, and one of the newer members, made fun of him for it all the time.

There was also the fact that Noah was blind as a bat. He’s had the same glasses from when he was about 8, before he was, well, shrunk, and they were cracked and beaten up from so many years of abuse. After all, he was 18 now. Not to mention, he’s still wearing that dumb, all white outfit that psycho scientist had made him wear. It made him uncomfortable.

He made a mental note to ask Anthony if he could possibly have something else to wear. And new glasses, if that was possible. It was probably super expensive. He should probably say something.

 

Noah’s been with the Smosh gang since March. He’s grown slightly attached to them all. About a month into his stay, Ian and Anthony surprised him with a few custom-made outfits; a few flannels, some skinny jeans, a few t-shirts, and a pair of tiny Converse high-tops. Noah nearly cried. Again. He remembered Keith complimenting him once he’d dressed himself. Actually, he remembered the whole gang complimenting him, while he stood on the same table he stood on on his first day in the studio.

Now, a few months later, he paced nervously across the top of a bookshelf. How he got up there, no one knew. He was always being found in weird, high up places, and needing to be taken down by a frantic, worried Keith when he remembers that he has a fear of heights. He was a curious kid with a knack for finding horrible places to hide. Soft muttering joined Noah’s anxious pacing as he argued with himself under his breath.

“Man, I _really_ need new glasses. But, what if it’s not even possible? Sure it’s possible, I mean, I’m wearing _tiny shoes,_ and a flannel with _buttons!_ Oh, geez, but how expensive would that be? Normal-sized glasses are like, at _least_ 200 bucks! But, I need to see, what if I walk off of a table or some--woah!”

_Speak of the fucking devil,_ Noah thought, panicked. Of course, in all of his pacing, he’d walked right off of the edge of the bookshelf. _This is the end. Nice going, Noah._

“Hey, Noah, you-- _Jesus!”_ Keith jumped forward to catch Noah, who was thanking every god there was that Keith had the reflexes of a cat, and _hella_ good timing.

“Oh, dear Jesus Christ almighty in heaven, I thought that was the end,” Noah muttered breathlessly, clinging to Keith’s t-shirt and holding back tears of relief.

“What the _hell_ were you doing?!” Keith yelled, voice panicky.

“I-I was pacing, on top of the bookshelf--”

“Oh, for crying out--how the _hell_ did you get up there anyway? And how did you manage to _fall off of_ _it?!”_ Despite the worried and angry tone of his voice, Keith stroked Noah’s shoulder with a thumb comfortingly; he _did_ just fall off of a bookshelf, after all.

Noah mumbled something incoherent in response, a blush spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. Keith asked him to repeat himself.

“I may have...just...walked off of it…”

“What do you mean you just _walked off_ _?!”_

“I told you, I was pacing, and I just...I wasn’t paying attention!”

_“You could have died!”_

Anthony, Ian, and a few other Smosh people burst into the room. “What’s going on, who almost died?”

_“He just fell off of a fucking bookshelf!”_ Keith screeched. Despite the narrowly avoided death, they all started laughing.

“Okay, so, we are never letting you on top of anything that high unsupervised ever again,” Anthony said through his laughter. “How do you even get up there?”

“I just climb, it’s not that hard--”

“Yeah, no more climbing for you, _Spiderman,”_ Keith argued, checking him over for injuries. “What were you even pacing about?”

“I--uh…” Noah suddenly got a lot more nervous. Well, now or never, I guess. “I just...I wanted to ask if there was any way I could get some new glasses, because I’ve literally had these since I was like, 8, and they’re like, really beat up, but like, I know it’s probably not even possible, and even if it was, it’d be like, _super_ expensive, so I didn’t want to ask--”

“Noah, of _course_ we can get you new glasses, man! You should’ve said something earlier! Don’t worry about that stuff, dude. Whatever you need, you let us know,” Anthony replied. Noah definitely wasn’t holding back tears. No, not at all. What are tears? Noah doesn’t know.


	2. Keith, I--

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months into Noah's arrival, things started going downhill. He started getting hate from the fans, and suddenly he started avoiding everyone and retreating to his area on a bookshelf in the office. Everyone started to worry, because it wasn't the hate that was bothering him. It was something else, somebody else. So, they tried to talk to him, tried to get him to spill what was up. What they found from this was that he completely, 100% avoided Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahA Ha hA you know how that last chapter was tooth-rotting fluff??
> 
> GET READY TO SUFFER
> 
> :)

After months of hiding, and generally not interacting with the Smosh gang, Noah finally started to come out of his shell. Keith was the first one to notice that Noah was speaking in full, stutter-free sentences. He was the first to notice that Noah smiled a lot more, and laughed a lot more. He also began to realize that he _really_ liked it when Noah smiled and laughed. And, well, he liked everything else about Noah, too. Like his hair, and his eyes, and his glasses, and all of his facial expressions, and-- _okay, Keith, get yourself together._

Along with Noah's newfound extroversion, he began to show an interest in the stuff that Smosh worked on. He actually wanted to _star_ in some of their stuff. So, they let him. They started off by getting everyone together and introducing him. He was shy at first, stuttering and not speaking loudly enough for the microphone to pick up, even though he was right in front of it, but eventually, he got into it and was comfortably speaking by the end. Keith couldn't stop smiling at the small teen.

Noah got more and more comfortable with everyone, and with the entire setting, and with YouTube, and eventually got so involved that he was starting to feel the telltale stress and sleep deprivation that was being a YouTuber. He started falling asleep randomly during the day, and he paced even more than he did previously. Spontaneous nap examples included the time when he fell asleep on Anthony's head during a Lunchtime with Smosh, when he fell asleep on Shayne's shoulder while they were doing an Every Blank Ever, and, Keith's favorite, the time he fell asleep against Keith's arm behind the scenes.

Most of the Smosh crew's camera rolls were filled with pictures of a sleeping Noah.

 

6 months into Noah's arrival, things started going downhill. He started getting hate from the fans, and suddenly he started avoiding everyone and retreating to his area on a bookshelf in the office. Everyone started to worry, because it wasn't the _hate_ that was bothering him. It was something else, some _body_ else. So, they tried to talk to him, tried to get him to spill what was up. What they found from this was that he completely, 100% avoided _Keith_.

What shocked them was that Keith was avoiding Noah as well.

So, the Smosh crew started forcing them to spend time together. They'd gone so far as to make them stuck on an elevator together, before remembering that Noah didn't use the elevator. They'd only succeeded in trapping the two once; on set. They'd set the two up to act in a "super important sketch," and gave them fake scripts.

 

"Hey, Noah, why have you been avoiding me?" Keith read, confused.

"I don't know, why are _you_ avoiding _me_?" Noah replied, starting to see the point of this. There were only two lines on the script, and Noah threw it to the side, sighing.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison. Noah’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are _you_ sorry?”

“Well, _obviously_ I did something to make you _hate_ me--”

“What? I don’t--I _definitely_ don’t hate you. Quite the _opposite_ , actually.” Keith tilted his head.

“Then why...why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Keith’s voice was quiet, something Noah was not used to. He hated it. For the second time since he’d been with the Smosh crew, he sighed, and thought, _now or never_. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, throat dry and jaw set.

“Keith, I--”

But, the words caught on his tongue. He _what? Liked_ him? Wanted to _be_ with him? _Cared_ about him?

_Loved him?_

The words swam in his mind and in the back of his throat, and he made a pathetic choking sound, face scrunched up in a silent sob. Keith reached out to him, but Noah backed away as the words grabbed a hold of the back of his tongue, refusing to leave his mouth. He tried to pull them out, but all he got was a tickle in his gag reflex. “I--” _love you. God, I love you._

The rest of the crew, who originally stood off to the side, watched worriedly as Noah tried to dry-heave the words, choking on tears and bile and nausea, watching as his entire world crumbled down around him because _what would they think? What would_ Keith _think? Where would he go?_

So he ran. He left that last thought behind, as his only thoughts now were out, _out_ , _**out**_. Keith called after him and he was so glad he was filled with adrenaline because he would’ve never made the jump from the table to the open windowsill without it. He stumbled, his friends crying out behind him as he launched himself down onto the fire escape.

The metal was cold beneath his hands as he practically parkoured down, clattering to the sidewalk with a hiss of pain as his ankle fell victim to the brunt of his fall. He dived into the nearest alleyway, throwing himself beneath a dumpster and watching in anguish as his friends gathered around the bottom of the fire escape. The unmistakable sound of Keith’s crying reached his ears and made him cringe, curling in on himself in the dark, cold corner.

_They’re better off without me._

 

“Noah’s been missing for three days,” Keith sniffed. He sat staring at Noah’s ‘bedroom’ on a shelf in the office. It still had clothes thrown everywhere. The iPhone they’d given him for entertainment and contact with them was propped up against the wall. One of his hoodies was clutched in Keith’s fingers; he brought it with him in case he found Noah, since he was probably freezing. He reached forward to grab the phone.

It was unlocked, thankfully. Keith opened the camera roll, inhaling sharply. The first picture was of him and Noah, the latter pressed up against his cheek, pushing at it with his hands as he protested with a grin. Shayne put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, man. We’ll find him. I promise.”

“Do you think he’s even still _alive_?” Keith asked, voice breaking.

“Don’t say that. He’s still alive. He’s a strong little guy. Come on, let’s go look one more time before it gets dark.”

 

Noah was breaking. Every time they’d come outside, looking for him, with open arms, a sweater, and food, Noah moved a bit farther out from beneath the dumpster. By now, he was sitting underneath the edge, limbs huddled together for warmth. He hasn’t eaten since he left, He’s dehydrated. He’s _tired_.

He almost gives in.  

When Keith and Shayne come outside to look for him, they turn down the alleyway. Shayne holds a container of Chinese food, and Keith has Noah’s phone clutched in one hand and his hoodie in the other. He looks like Hell. Noah almost sprints out, running toward him and apologizing, but even as he’s thinking about it, he feels a tickle in his nose, and he panics.

He’s gonna sneeze.

Sneezing is exactly what got him caught last time. Keith’s head swivels so fast that _Noah_ gets whiplash, and he stumbles to cover his mouth. Keith’s eyes snap into his with laser focus, and Noah’s never seen him so relieved in his life. “Noah! Holy shit, dude!”

_ Fuck.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeAH I KNOW IT'S SHORT IM SORRY I HAVE LIKE 4 OTHER STORIES IM WORKING ON AND ALSO SCHOOL AND IM TIRED SO JUST CRY ABOUT IT AND THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE HERE BEFORE YOU KNOW IT


End file.
